OOM: Release

[spit_it_out]

 
He'd woken up tempted to just give it another day. He was OK with that. He'd stay as long as it took to make sure nothing happened.

But after a couple of hours, it's become obvious that isn't going to work either. He can't stay focused on the book he's reading, and his legs are twitching from lack of activity. He tries to go back to sleep, but it's hard enough to drop off at the best of times. There's nothing for it. He's going to have to get out there and face it, if only for enough time to get some fresh air.

So he's really glad to see Molly when she comes in.

Comments

[cute_bruiser]

She's a little surprised when the basement hatch opens on the bar, but only because the entrance has been so unreliable for so long - and three entrances in a fortnight was unprecedented even when she was twelve and came here regularly. Still, maybe the bar just remembered her promise to Bruce. Molly herself certainly hasn't forgotten, so she only pauses at the bar long enough to get tea (extra sugar for her, black for him - Bar's suggestion) in takeout cups before heading straight to the office.

Her note is still on the board, so she takes it down and tosses it in the bin before approaching the one whited-out cell.

"Bruce? It's Molly." Just because she could order Baby to go transparent doesn't mean she has any intention of doing so. "Can I come in?"

(She's in civvies again today: jeans, boots and a hoodie over one of Chase's old Muppets t-shirts, so long it looks like a minidress. Green retro headphones like the ones Vic used to wear are looped around her neck: she spent most of last night listening to music rather than sleeping. She'd like to look more like an adult right now, but oh well.)

[spit_it_out]

He's resorted to yoga to appease his legs. It feels better to stretch them out, and he's currently bent backwards in a crab position, feet and palms both flat on the floor.

'Yeah. Come in.'

It took years to get flexible enough to do this, and she'll just have to excuse him while he holds it another half minute. He didn't get to be the top of his field by cutting corners, and he tends to extend that to other ares of his life.

[cute_bruiser]

"Hey." She tilts her head as far round as possible to give him a smile, and leans against the wall to sip her tea and wait for him to finish.

(And not a single comment on his flexibility. Maybe she really has grown up, after all.)

[spit_it_out]

'Hey.'

He sounds a little out of breath, but that's because he's been doing this for an hour, rather than because he's out of shape. Though he has lapsed a little, since Canada.

'Just a minute.'

Not even that. Twenty more seconds and he eases himself down, lying flat on the floor and counting the deep breaths from his abdomen. When he reaches ten, he opens his eyes and smiles, a little bashful.

'Sorry. I was restless.'

But now, he looks more at ease. Certainly more than he was yesterday.

[cute_bruiser]

"It's cool." She smiles back at him, no need to turn her head this time. "I was entertained."

She holds out the second cup to him. "Brought you tea. I asked Bar how you liked it."

In other words, blame the inanimate magical object if it's wrong.

[spit_it_out]

'Thanks.'

He sits up, and reaches to take it. As he does, he looks her over.

She always looks so young. But then, she is, compared to him. Or maybe he just feels old. He can't remember ever projecting her kind of youthfulness.

'You OK? You look tired.'

[cute_bruiser]

"Man, Bruce. Anyone ever tell you what a charmer you are?" she teases gently, shaking her head at him; someone really ought to teach him how to talk to women.

She traded on her childishness a lot as a kid: being wildly underestimated had a habit of being useful, and she could make the older ones laugh. She's twenty-seven now, though, and although she'd really rather she didn't look quite so much younger than she is, at this stage it's probably set for life.

"I'm always tired," she says, and shrugs. "Hasn't killed me yet."

She sips her tea, looking back at him steadily. The big green eyes probably don't help the youthful thing either, all things considered - nor the fact that she doesn't have anywhere near enough time to bother with make-up. "How're you doing?"

[spit_it_out]

'Oh yeah, all the time.'

He manages to make it sound light, but looks down anyway, and covers the automatic move with taking a drink. Then he shrugs.

'I'm all right.'

Better than yesterday. He'll take it. He sets the cup down, and rises without making a sound, before sitting on the bed to pull his shoes on and lace them. He nods to her earphones.

'What are you listening to?'

He doubts he'll have heard of whoever it is, but he decided last night that he needs to make a concerted effort to...not do what he did yesterday. She doesn't deserve to get treated like a listening post, whether she minds it or not.

[cute_bruiser]

Yeah, Bruce, not fooled. Crossing out another possible way of making him laugh from her mental list, yes, but not fooled. (She will make him laugh; she is determined. It's going to happen.)

His question makes her smile crookedly, and touch the headphones where they rest at her throat.

"The Beatles."

She found Vic's old iPod a couple nights ago, and amazingly it still works. Maybe she'll nickname Bruce 'bulldog' and see how long it takes him to get the reference: she likes the look on his face when the penny drops, though it's unlikely to make him smile. Maybe not, then.

"Are you gonna try coming out, then?"

[spit_it_out]

'The Beatles? Really? I would have thought they were a bit before your time.'

Full of surprises, obviously. And he nods, and stands.

'Yeah, I'll come out. See how it feels.'

He's pretty sure he'll be OK for now, but isn't going to commit until he gets up there. And resolutely does not think about how much he hates that he has to test such things.

[cute_bruiser]

"Hey, it's good music." And it reminds her of her lost brother. "Bit before your time, too, if it comes to that."

She smiles, briefly touching his shoulder. "I'll come with, if you want. Have you seen the outside, yet?"

[spit_it_out]

He quirks a self-deprecating smile - closer to his time than hers - and nods.

'Briefly. Someone showed me, in case I needed...space.'

He didn't tell them why, though.

'I only stood outside the door, though.'

[cute_bruiser]

Being from about fifteen years ahead of him probably helps with that, to be fair.

"Want to head out, then? It's less... crowded than the bar is."

[spit_it_out]

'Yeah.'

Another bashful glance, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

'Thanks. But...you really don't have if you've got - I mean, I don't want you to feel obligated.'

That probably sounds a lot more pathetic than he meant it to. He really appreciates her being nice, but he's a little bit at a loss as to why she cares.

[cute_bruiser]

Because she can, and because she wants to. Because someone should, and because she likes the awkward little nerd, and because she is absolutely unafraid.

"Dude, have you got any idea how hard it is to make me do something I don't want to?" she demands, with a sideways smile. "I like you, so deal with it."

She's put a lot more thought into this than the way she talks makes it sound: she knew they'd have this conversation - or one like it - sooner or later. Of course, having thought about this doesn't necessarily mean she gets the answer right.

"'sides," she adds, and zips up her hoodie, "I want another drink. C'mon, dork, let's go."

[spit_it_out]

'Dork?'

His eyebrows shoot up, but he looks amused.

'I haven't been called that in about twenty-five years.'

He stands to the side though, and gestures her to leave the cell first. He may have anger issues, but he also has manners.

'Why do I feel like I just got told off by a teenager?'

[cute_bruiser]

She rolls her eyes at him amusedly.

"Oh, shush, I'm twenty-seven." Baby opens the cell before she even needs to ask, and she slips out, looking back for him. "Anyway, you are."

[spit_it_out]

'Yeah, but you don't look it.'

That might have been a compliment. Or it might have been a guy saying something that he believes women find complimentary, without really getting why.

More likely, he was just telling the truth and didn't put that much thought into it. And he follows, hands back in pockets.

'And yeah, I suppose I am. But, dork. That's what fourteen year old science club boys get called.'

He doesn't sound like he minds.

[cute_bruiser]

Either way, Molly's not about to lose sleep over his motivations. There are way bigger deals.

"Man, don't remind me. Or the six-year-old I have to convince to eat her breakfast later."

She laughs at him over her shoulder.

"And are you gonna try to tell me you weren't a fourteen-year-old science club boy?"

[spit_it_out]

'Not even if I thought I could get away with it.'

Hey, he's not ashamed.

'I just wasn't expecting to hear the names again post-fortieth birthday.'

The door to the bar opens, and the noise makes him blink and frown. It seems louder after a few days of near-silence, and the light unnecessarily bright. He turns immediately towards the back door, not waiting for her this time.

[cute_bruiser]

"Well, brace yourself, because you're in for a shock."

Yep, she's going to be calling him a dork a lot in future.

Although she's in front of him as they cross the threshold into the bar, she's keeping an eye on him: as soon as his expression darkens she steps back, slips her arm through his to try to distract him.

Luckily, the walk to the back door isn't very far, and Molly is temporarily deaf and blind to anyone who recognises her.

[spit_it_out]

'I'm OK,' he mutters as they walk, though he doesn't pull away from her.

And he's glad of the rush of cold air when the back door opens, even if it means he's going to be shivering before too long. It's a refreshing wake-up, and better than the stuffiness of inside.

As if to prove that he is OK, he adds, 'I'll have to think up something to call you.'

It sounds forced. But it's progress from yesterday.

[cute_bruiser]

"Brrr." She tugs her hood up with her free hand; she's a California baby at heart, and even when she spent three winters in Milliways she never really got used to the cold or the grey. Today, at least, it's bright: there's been a frost, and now cold clear sunshine.

Molly laughs. "I'm really, really scared, Bruce. But if you manage to be more inventive than my brothers, I'll be crazy impressed."

[spit_it_out]

'Well. You do sound terrified.'

He sounds mostly amused, but he still disengages his arm from hers, trying to be tactful about it by immediately rubbing his other bicep in a show of warming it up. A deep breath later, a look around the impressive view - yeah, this is better.

'How many brothers do you have? I forgot their names, sorry.'

[cute_bruiser]

"I used to have two - Victor and Chase."

She turns her head away, fingers touching the headphones again.

"Just Chase, these days."

The lake is very still today, almost glasslike.